Chapter 35: Assassin’s Blood
****Dante’s POV****
The bullet hole in my shoulder was healing slower than it should.
I’d cleaned it with scotch, stitched it with a broken sewing needle, and wrapped it with gauze stolen from a half-burnt clinic in Naples. It still throbbed like hell. But pain was a familiar companion. I didn’t mind it much anymore.
It reminded me I was still alive.
What I did mind was the silence.
Not the physical kind—though the cellar we were hiding in was too damn quiet. No, it was the silence between me and Isabelle. We hadn’t spoken since the video of Victor’s confession surfaced.
She didn’t say it out loud, but I knew what she was thinking.
That Matteo’s death had been worse than murder.
It had been betrayal.
And it started long before that wedding.
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We’d
